The Flow of Blood
by Hikage
Summary: What if captain Okita Souji of the Shinsengumi had survived his illness for some years longer? What if a certain dark-haired rurouni happened to show up on his doorstep one day? Okita x Soujiro. (02.21.05 New chapter up.}
1. A Chance Meeting

SUMMARY: What if captain Okita Souji had survived his illness for some years longer? What if a certain dark-haired rurouni happened to show up on his doorstep one day? Okita/Soujiro.  
  
READ THIS, if you don't know who Okita Souji is. He was the uber-cute captain of the First Unit of the Shinsengumi. He was very talented with the sword, and was a prodigy. He also had a very amiable personality: never seen without a (genuine) smile on his face, and he also loved to joke around. Soujiro's character was actually based off of his. Okita was in the RK series for a few moments (in which he looked strikingly like Soujiro with a ponytail and lighter brown hair, and a Shinsengumi uniform), and in the OVA's for a longer time. In the OVA's, however, he looks different: he has black hair, and is drawn differently. I am referring to the RK-series version of Okita in this fanfic. He's so kawaii in that version.  
  
NOTE: Alright, everyone, be warned. This is yaoi. YAOI. If you don't like it, please don't read, and don't flame me either. And it's also slightly alternate timeline. Okita lives, and I've bended his age by a couple of years (five, to be precise) so he won't be a whole 17 years older than Soujiro. Please read and review. Constructive criticism is looked forward to, as are plain compliments :) Please do not review about how much you hate this couple. I don't care, to put it blatantly. And I know, Soujiro's name can be spelled as Sojiro, and Soujirou. I prefer Soujiro, and that's what I'll stick with. Thanks, and now, to the fic!

The Flow of Blood  
  
chapter one: a chance meeting  
  
Strands of short dark-brown hair waved gracefully in the wind, as Seta Soujiro found his way down the streets of Yamagata. The corners of his mouth were turned up into a smile, but something about his demeanor was certainly different than it was two years ago. Some light had returned to his lackluster eyes, a certain softness had come back to his personality. But he still had much to learn.  
  
Looking up into the sky, he caught a glimpse of the thunderstorm soon to approach. The sky was darkening steadily: it was approaching sunset. Thunderclouds were directly above the city. Soujiro gave off a small sigh, and pulled out the bag wherein he kept his dwindling money. Emptying the pouch, he realized that he had no more than two coins overall, which certainly wasn't enough to get him through the night at an inn. This, of course, meant he'd either have to rough it outdoors, or go door-to-door, hoping that someone had a room in their home for a rurouni to stay in for a night. Not that it was a problem, but it certainly was not preferred.  
  
Putting away his remaining money, he noticed that he had somehow veered away from the busy streets, and was now in an alleyway. He noticed that he always did have that nasty habit of not really paying attention to where he was going. Shrugging to himself and still smiling, he walked through the narrow walkway, letting his mind wander.  
  
It had been about two years since he had left Kyoto in hopes of finding a Truth of his own. Two whole years. He was a very mature twenty-year-old, but he knew that in his heart, he was still a young boy. He had supressed his emotions at such a young age, that now, when he had started to slowly discover them again, he didn't quite know what to make of them. There were times that he would feel something, without quite knowing what it was. Anger? Sadness? Joy? Love?  
  
Love. Out of all the emotions he knew about, love seemed to be the most confusing. Soujiro found himself completely unable to grasp the concept of love; he simply could not understand a feeling that some said brought extreme happiness, and others stated, was nothing but a waste of time, and a tragedy waiting to happen. Anger, he understood. Sadness, he could comprehend. Joy, he could vaguely grasp, as well. But this 'love' seemed somehow beyond his reach...  
  
About a half an hour later, he came across a clearing, surrounded by trees, with what seemed like a dojo, safely nestled between the trees. _That would be nice,_ Soujiro thought to himself, _to spend the night at a dojo_. He hoped that the master would be able to have an intelligible conversation with him about the art of the sword, and perhaps even teach him a little of the style that he used. His hopes skyrocketing, Soujiro walked eagerly to the door, and knocked.  
  
No answer came.  
  
Soujiro knocked again, a little longer, and a little louder. Still, no answer came, but a horrendous coughing echoed throughout the inside of the dojo. Soujiro blinked in confusion. Perhaps, in this part of the country, coughing was a way to let visitors know they weren't welcome? The thought crossed the boy's mind for an instant, before receeding. Or perhaps the man inside really did need help. In the few minutes that Soujiro spent trying to decide whether or not to help the person, the coughing stopped.  
  
Furrowing his brows discreetly, Soujiro backed away from the door of the dojo, turned around, and contemplated his next move. Beside the dojo, there was a shed. A very comfortable-looking shed, calculating in the fact that rain had already began to fall. The roof of the shed extended some, creating enough space for a person to lean up against the outer wall and sleep, perhaps.  
  
Soujiro cast a glance toward the door of the dojo, his vision now slightly blurred by the steadily falling rain. Lightning cracked violently in the distance. Maybe the owner of the dojo wouldn't mind if he crawled up underneath the shed. It wasn't as if he would steal any of it's contents. And he'd make sure to leave by the morning, too. He'd create no inconvenience whatsoever. Peering at the door of the dojo one more time, he took a few steps to the shed, and sat down underneath the roof, curling into a ball. He closed his eyes shut, and attempted to fall asleep to the cold rhythm of the rain.  
  
A drop of bright red fell, thickly, onto a fingertip, and then rolled off, hitting the ground, splashing into smaller drops. Brown hair covered chocolate eyes, brimming with tears, as a the sound of a hacking cough echoed, bouncing off the walls...The man named Okita Souji found himself on the floor, supporting himself up with his arms only, as blood poured out of his mouth, splattering on the floor. He felt his lungs heave as he tried to breathe between the sharp coughs that escaped his mouth. He felt suffocated, his lungs seemed to be collapsing, his head was sent spinning violently, and he felt the strong desire to somehow just fall unconcious for a while.  
  
It had been a good many years since the Shinsengumi dissapated, since many of his comrades had died honorably. He owned a dojo now, to instruct others of the Tennen Rishin Ryuu, the style that he had mastered at the young age of fifteen. Yes, it was a long time. But he still had his coughing fits, and lately, they seemed to intensify. It seemed that no matter how fortunate he was in life, he could not escape from the powerful flow of blood...  
  
At last, the heavy weight was slowly pulled off from his chest, and Okita started to take slow, shallow breaths. His lungs pained a little, but it would soon alleviate, he knew. His arms began to tremble, as his body weight began to become too much for them to handle at the time. He let out a tiny chuckle at this, and a last drop of blood fell from his lips.  
  
For a long time, he stared at the pool of blood that he had coughed up. He bit his lip, tasting the coppery flavor he knew so well. "I'd better clean it up," He mumbled to himself, watching as the blood-stain began to spread across the floor. Grabbing a spare rag, he mopped up the blood dripping off his face, as well as spots of red on the floor, before placing it beside his futon. He groaned a little as he got up, picking up the bowl of water that he had placed in his room (for occasions like this), and headed outside. He needed to get rid of the blood that stained his mouth, did he not?  
  
His heart sunk as he heard a crack of thunder outside; he had always disliked being outside in the rain, especially in the dark. His body was still trembling a little from the aftershocks of his coughing fit as he opened the door and stepped outside his dojo. Putting the bowl to his mouth, he rinsed the inside of his mouth, and spit out the now pinkish-colored water on the ground. When he was done, Okita turned to run back inside the house before he managed to get far too wet, but in mid-turn, his eyes caught something under his shed.  
  
In the darkness, it appeared to him as nothing but an odd shape, bluish in color. Carefully, he began to take steps toward the object, painfully on-guard. He jumped a little when a giant squall exploded in the sky, and the lightning illuminated the object for a brief second. He blinked and stopped moving, as he realized that the 'object' was a person.  
  
"Excuse me!" Okita projected his voice into the darkness, toward the person curled up underneath his shed. "Excuse me! Why are you underneath my shed?" Another clap of thunder echoed, and he felt a flicker of annoyance at the fact that he was now dripping with water, after being outside for such a small amount of time. Not to mention, he had just coughed up a few liters of blood, and a complete stranger now was sleeping under his shed. That was enough to frustrate anybody.  
  
For a while he got no answer, but he heard some movement from the direction of whoever was gracing his presence, but he finally did hear some words, echoing through the violence of the storm: "Gomen nasai, Sir! I...I'm a rurouni, and I knocked on your door earlier today, with intentions of asking if I could stay at your dojo for the night. You didn't answer, and I simply helped myself to your shed..." Okita listened carefully. The speaker seemed to be a young man, but he could not make out his form clearly in the near pitch-darkness. Apparently, he had knocked on the door when he was having his coughing fit. "...Gomen nasai! I'll leave immediately." The stranger continued. "It was wrong of me to do this without asking for your permission first. I'll leave immediately..."  
  
Okita frowned. It was his fault for not listening to the knock on the door, not the boy's. He loved company, especially when he was living by himself. There was no need to kick him out; he seemed like a very polite and mature young man, also. He said he was a rurouni? A wanderer always had something to talk about. That would make for some good conversation, definitely.  
  
Okita walked closer to the young man, who seemed about an inch or so shorter than him. He could not make out his face clearly, but he could tell that he was grinning, oddly enough. "It's I who owes you an apology. Gomen, for not hearing you knocking on my door. I should have paid more attention." Okita smiled warmly. "If you'd like, you may come inside. You could catch something terrible out here."  
  
The rurouni stared at him for a moment, before widening his smile. "Arigatou gozaimasu!" He bowed politely. "I appreciate your kindness. My name isSoujiro, by the way."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Soujiro-san," He quickly bowed as well. "You may call me Souji." He came out of his bow and laughed. "I believe we have the same name! That could get confusing!"  
  
Soujiro laughed. "I'm sure we'll manage through the night, Souji-san." He continued to smile.  
  
"Well, come inside, then!" Okita walked back to the dojo, and motioned for Soujiro to follow. "The weather here has been quite horrible as of late. We've been having downpours for the last few weeks..." He turned and looked over at the boy next to him. He was smiling, but somehow, it just didn't seem right.  
  
That's odd... Okita thought, as he gazed at the rurouni. There was something odd about him. He seemed amiable enough, but still, something didn't seem quite right. And his name. He vaguely remembered a few events that took place in the city of Kyoto a few years ago. They had to do with a man named Shishio Makoto. He remembered being told of an odd smiling eighteen-year-old boy by the name Seta Soujiro who was his right-hand man...  
  
He shrugged it off. He was probably just imagining things. It was none of his buisness, after all. And besides...after the night, the boy would be gone. 


	2. Similarities & Assasins

NOTE: Wow, people reviewed. That made my day. Thanks to all who were brave enough to read this, and thank you very much for your supportive comments. So here's the second chapter: I hope it's up to speed. I also hope that it's not too long. I tried to shorten it as much as I could. Again, thanks so much for reviewing.  
  
The Flow of Blood  
  
chapter two: similarities & assasins  
  
Okita peered over his tea, tentatively, and glanced at the boy sitting cross-legged across from him. His face was the color of cream, and he was sure that if he touched his skin, it would feel like soft whipped butter. His eyes were big and dark, like pools of the night sky; the curve of his face was almost entrancing, as a mop of dark brown hair fell against the sides of his head...  
  
"Souji-san?" Okita started at the sound of his name, bringing his eyes to focus. He felt some heat rise to his face. He had just retrieved Soujiro from beneath his shed, and had given him a yukata to wear while his clothes dried.   
  
"Gomen nasai, Soujiro-san," Okita said, sitting up looking forcibly at his tea. "I drifted off for a moment there!" He laughed and scratched the back of his head nervously.  
  
Soujiro widened his smile. "It's alright, Souji-san. I do that sometimes, too."   
  
Okita cleared his throat a little bit, and continued. "So, Soujiro-san, where exactly are you coming from?" That was always a good start to conversation.   
  
"That's quite a good question, Souji-san," He started. "Unfortunately, I have no idea. I just arrived here today...I'm not too great with maps." He laughed, rather guiltily.   
  
Okita nodded. "It's quite understandable. I never got the hang of maps myself until the latter part of my life." He grinned. He suddenly felt the impulse to ask the boy for his age.  
  
Soujiro kept smiling, unnerving the older man a little. "I just turned twenty a few days ago," He said, as if having read Okita's mind. "Perhaps I've yet to understand maps. I think I might stay here for a while, however."  
  
"Happy belated birthday, Soujiro-san," Okita offered. "However, I'd suggest that you leave Yamagata for a few months. Right now, there's rumors of some people who are out for blood." And it was true. Just whose blood they were after was another issue. He shifted unfomfortably. He knew quite well of the rumors passing around the city, and they managed to get under his skin. As of late, he found himself painfully aware of each small sight and sound that passed him.  
  
"Honto ni?" Soujiro said, slowly, gazing at Okita. "Who are these people?"  
  
"I'm not quite sure," Okita said, evasively. "But I know that the rumors are more than likely true. As a matter of fact, I'm considering leaving Yamagata myself."  
  
"What about your dojo?" Soujiro's head tilted a little as he asked the question.  
  
"I'm not offering lessons as of late, due to this person." Okita said. He did not like how Soujiro was coming on to him like this. He wanted to keep his identity from the boy, and letting him know more about this killer was a surefire way to get him to figure out who he was.   
  
He simply nodded. "I know you can fend for yourself, Souji-san," The boy started, slowly. "But I would be happy to offer my services to help keep you safe."  
  
Okita blinked, taken aback in surprise. "Do you fight, Soujiro-san?"  
  
Soujiro's grin caught him off guard. "Hai, Souji-san, I do. I presume you did not take notice of my sword that I was carrying with me?"  
  
Sword? No, he certainly didn't notice that. He mentally smacked himself. He was too busy staring at the way the boy's wet gi had stuck to his body, wasn't he? _You're losing your touch, Okita_, he thought to himself. _Get a grip on yourself._ "Iie." He said, sternly, bringing up his guard.   
  
Soujiro nodded. "I know a few things about the sword, myself. I do not use my sword to kill, however. You needn't mistrust me." There was a very small edge to his voice that Okita did not catch.   
  
"I see." Okita nodded slowly, remembering his own sword, the Kikuichimonji Norimune. It was locked away, now. It held too many things that he wanted to forget. "What style do you practice?"  
  
"Tenbu no Sai Niyoru Ken." The boy said.   
  
Okita nodded slowly. "Hai, I believe I have heard of that. You are capable of the Shukuchi, ne?"  
  
Soujiro nodded, still grinning.  
  
"I see." He had severely underestimated this boy. He felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, in the presence of the younger man, shifting uneasily. Soujiro strongly reminded him of--quite frankly,_ himself_. He seemed to be an accomplished swordsman, though he bore the looks of a boy who was barely fifteen years old. He was small and not heavily built, but Okita did not doubt that he had power. It reminded him of the talk about some events that took place in Kyoto a few years ago...  
  
"What's the matter, Souji-san?" Soujiro asked slowly, his smile beginning to fade a little. "Do you mistrust me for some reason?"  
  
Okita smiled. "Iie, Soujiro-san. May I ask for your surname?"  
  
Soujiro grinned widely. "And why is that?"  
  
"Just wondering." Okita said, evasively.  
  
"And may I ask for yours?" He grinned, almost angelically, as Okita felt a surge of annoyance.   
  
"No, Soujiro-san, you may not."  
  
"I see." Soujiro placed his empty teacup on the table and got up, all of a sudden. He bowed politely to Okita, a smile playing on his face. "I would like to get some rest now, Souji-san." He said, matter-of-factly. "I'll take your advice and leave Yamagata in the morning. Again, arigatou gozaimazu, for your hospitality." He turned to leave. "But please: if you need any help, I would be more than happy to assist you."  
  
Okita nodded, and watched as Soujiro walked toward the room that he had let him sleep in, but he found himself staring in that direction for a long time after he was gone.   
  
----::----  
  
Later that night, Okita fell into an uneasy sleep. He found himself tossing and turning repeatedly, both mentally and physically exhausted. At last, when he fell into a shallow rhythm of breaths, he found himself brutally awakened: rough hands grabbed his shoulders tightly and he felt cold steel press against his thoat...  
  
Okita snapped his eyes open as he felt something sharp against his skin. The darkness was near blinding, but he knew that there was someone there. He seemed invisible to him, but the ki was definitely present. The man had both of his legs pinned down with his own, and his left arm down as well. He held his right arm with his elbow as he held the knife to Okita's throat. The stench of his breath breezed onto his face...  
  
"Okita Souji." The man's voice was low, but provocative. He chuckled lightly; a normal person could have taken him for being plain crazy.  
  
"Who are you?" Okita said, sternly. "What are you doing at my dojo in the middle of the night?"  
  
"I have come to spill your blood, Okita." The man growled, his voice eerily happy.. There was what seemed like an insatiable passion in his voice, as if he had waited all his life to kill him.   
  
"If so, why don't you challenge me, like a man? Have you no honor?" Okita said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Why sneak up on me at night? You are a coward." There was no insult in his voice, he simply stated his retort.  
  
"Do not speak to me like that!" The man hissed, his mad fervor oscillating in the air between them. "You know nothing of honor and cowardice, you filthy Shinsengumi rat!"  
  
Okita had had enough. His right arm was pinned down with less force than the rest of his limbs, so he took advantage of that situation. Yanking his arm free, he shot his hand at the man's throat, grabbing the exposed skin and squeezing tightly. The man made some faint noises, which sounded vaguely like threats, and he aimed the knife at Okita's arm.   
  
He barely dodged, but not without getting cut. He began to bleed profusely, his hand still clutching the man's throat. When he felt the other man get slowly weaker from lack of air, he pulled his left, and most powerful arm free, tossing the man's upper body aside. He elbowed the side of the man's face aside, gaining the advantage, and easily pulled free from the grip of the man's legs.   
  
The man, however, recuperated easily enough, before Okita could make a move to open a chest and pull out a sword, the man had caught up to him and was standing in front of him, a knife aiming for his head. He dodged, glancing up at this mysterious man. He still had no idea what he looked like, just that he was very fast.   
  
He could sense the man approaching for another blow, and prepared himself. He had no sword to save him this time. No trusty Kikuichimonji Norimune to whip out, no Sandanzuki to perform. He was quite a lightweight physically, he knew. If he could just keep moving...  
  
He felt steel skim against his arm as he dodged yet another attack.   
  
"K'so! Stop moving!" The other man hissed, the anger he had seemed to pulsate throughout the room, encompassing everything in it's path. Okita frowned as he dodged again. What did this man have against him? Why did he seem to hate him so passionately? He didn't understand...  
  
Another flash of steel missed him as he swerved to the right, but felt the hard wall of his room hit him instead. He turned to the left, but solid wall was there, too. He felt a cold sensation drip into his gut. The bastard had him cornered. Quickly, Okita calculated his next move. He could try and squeeze his way underneath the man's legs. Leaning down and anticipating another hit, he braced himself.   
  
But the hit never came. Instead, he heard a loud shout from his opponent and a thump onto the floor. A few scrambling sounds echoed in the emptiness of the air and Okita correctly assumed that the man had fallen down somehow, and had gotten back up again.   
  
"Damnit!" The man spat. "I underestimated you." Okita blinked. He hadn't done a thing. If something had knocked the man down...who was it? He tensed lightly, as he heard some steps. "I'll be back for you, Okita. The next time we meet, I will destroy you." The man hissed, his voice overflowing with a vengeance that made him cringe. And with that, he jumped out of the open window.  
  
Okita stood still for a minute or so, in the pitch-blackness, sensing the other presence that he knew was there. His arm was bleeding; he could feel hot liquid flowing down his arm and pouring out onto his hand. His legs weakened slightly, as he watched, staring into the darkness, waiting for a slight movement...


	3. Journey's Beginning

A/N: Yay! People reviewed again! Thanks so much for your support. I feel special. And April-san, I believe you requested kissing. Well, just read and see. It might not be satisfactory, but hey, I need to have something to get the two started. Unfortunately, you're going to have to sit through yet another Okita POV. I'll try to make the next one a Soujiro POV. And I really, really hope this isn't too short. If it is, I shall commit sepukku.  
  
I haven't mentioned this yet, but my wonderful beta, Oniwabanshu, has been faithfully reading these fanfics. All praise go to her.  
  
The Flow of Blood  
  
chapter three: journey's beginning  
  
A few seconds passed, as Okita stood silently, awaiting an impending attack or at least, a voice. Instead, he heard more steps, and the creak of a door. He blinked in surprise. What the hell was going on? Had this second person simply left? His brows furrowing in confusion, he walked over to his sword chest, and pulled out a nihontou, looking around to make sure that he was not about to be attacked again. He pulled it out of it's sheath, and walked carefully toward the door, placing his hands on the wood, preparing to open it, and--  
  
"Okita Souji-sama?"  
  
The door came flying into his face, whacking him square in the forehead and shoving him right into the wall as someone pushed the door open. He felt a lump swell on his head, as he groaned in annoyance.  
  
"Okita Souji-sama?" The voice said again, and he regcognized it as Soujiro's.  
  
Soujiro? What was he doing awake at this time? It must have been five o'clock in the morning.  
  
Light flooded the room as the dark-haired boy stepped in, with a candlestick in one hand and a roll of bandages on the other. "Okita-sama? Are you here?" He stopped for a moment, cocking his head. "I could have sworn," He mumbled to himself, as he turned around, spotting the man he was looking for on the floor, rubbing his forehead vigorously. Soujiro laughed gleefully at the sight. "Okita-sama, there you are! What are you doing on the floor?"  
  
Okita looked incredulously at the boy. "Never mind it, Soujiro-san. I thought you were asleep."  
  
"Not quite." He grinned, as he walked over to Okita, putting down the candlestick and the bandages. He sank to his knees so that he was face-to-face with the older man, his smiling face lit up in the shadowy candlelight. For some inexplicable reason, Okita felt his breath hitch at the sight.  
  
"Actually," The boy continued, "I was awake all this time. I just couldn't go to sleep." He smiled. "I heard some odd noises from your room, Okita-sama, and I began to get worried, and decided to drop in and take care of that nuisance of yours." He grinned and bowed, his hair falling down from his head and tickling Okita's ankles. "Not that I doubted that you would have been able to defeat him yourself, Okita-sama. But after all, I am supposed to help people, as a rurouni."  
  
Soujiro continued to smile at a speechless Okita, and reached forward, and took his bleeding arm in his hand. "I'll put some bandages on your arm for you, if you don't mind, Okita-sama," He said, cheerily, pulling up his sleeve. He took a wet cloth and wiped away the blood that had dried on his arm and palm.  
  
"Onegai, Soujiro-san, just call me Souji." Okita said, quietly, realizing completely now that Soujiro knew exactly who he was.  
  
"I can't do that, Okita-sama," He looked up at him, his face beaming. "You are the famous Okita Souji, the captain of the First Unit of the Shinsengumi--"  
  
"I _was_, Soujiro-san. I _was_ the captain of the First Unit. I am not, anymore." Okita said, a sting in his voice. He did not want to be reminded of his men in the Shinsengumi, not now. Not after everything that had happened.  
  
Soujiro just nodded, with that grin on his face. "That's true. But I suppose you can't just let go of it, can you?" He pulled a tape of bandages and placed it on Okita's arm. "Whether you like it or not, I suppose your past makes up a part of who you are. A part of you that you just cannot change."  
  
Okita paused for a moment and looked at the boy. He looked young and carefree, unburdened, almost, with that bright smile to alleviate all his worries. He looked almost too happy. "Why do you say that, Soujiro-san?" He felt himself frowning. Something was not right about this boy. He found himself moving closer to his face, like an insect drawn to radiating light.  
  
For a response, the boy simply smiled wider, bringing his dark eyes to meet Okita's chocolate-brown ones. Instead, he simply said: "Okita Souji-sama, I'm glad I've met you. You've always inspired me, ever since I first heard about you."  
  
Okita felt color rise to his cheeks. "Arigatou, Soujiro-san," Okita said. "I'm glad I could be of use." He smiled crookedly, which caught Soujiro's attention. For a moment, Okita could have sworn that Soujiro was not smiling. The candlelight is playing tricks on my eyes, Okita told himself, as he found himself staring at the younger boy's mouth.  
  
Currently, they were curved, just slightly, into a smile. They looked so warm and plush and supple; the older man felt an impulse to touch them with his fingers. Or better yet, with his mouth. He found himself moving closer and closer to the younger boy, who seemed to be completely oblivious to his intentions.  
  
Okita could feel Soujiro's hot breath tickle his own, just barely; it sent a variety of sensations spreading throughout his body. Then, without warning, he moved forward and quickly captured the younger boy's lips with his own.  
  
It was a chaste kiss, full of uncertainty. Soujiro's lips were cold and icy, though soft. Okita felt the boy stiffen under the kiss, his mouth froze up completely, as did his movements to bandage his arm. He was very still, and the older man became vaguely aware of the fact that he may not have liked being kissed. Embarrassment shooting through his mind, Okita quickly let his lips go, bringing his eyes to meet the younger man's face.  
  
Soujiro simply smiled, and went back to bandaging his arm.  
  
Okita blinked in confusion. What was the matter with this boy? If being kissed was something against his will, why was he so complaisant about it? Why did he not react to it at all? And now, he was acting like it had never happened...  
  
Color rose to his cheeks. He felt annoyed with himself for going to kiss the boy in the first place. He barely even knew him. He didn't even know what his surname was. He didn't know a thing...  
  
"Perhaps, Okita-sama, you should leave Yamagata, too." Soujiro's voice caught Okita off guard. It was just like it always was: calm, polite, and unnervingly cheerful.  
  
After a long while, Okita answered. "Hai, Soujiro-san, I probably should. I don't really have anywhere to go, though." All his relatives were gone by now, and he had never married, so was without a wife or a family of his own. He was alone.  
  
Soujiro smiled wider. "I don't have anyone, either." He said that so cheerfully, Okita was taken aback. "It would be nice to have some company, however. Would you like to come with me, Okita-sama?" He grinned ethereally, candlelight dancing on his face.  
  
"You want me...to come with you?" Okita asked. He felt exceptionally guilty about this, especially after kissing the boy; against his will, probably. He did not understand why Soujiro asked him to accompany him on his wanderings.  
  
"If you would like to," Soujiro said, still smiling. "I would like your company."  
  
"Oh." Okita said, dumbly. He felt himself being caught off-guard by this boy far too much. It began to annoy him. It was usually _him_ with the everlasting smile and the humor; it was usually _him_ who caught people by surprise from his sunshiny cheer and optimism. But he felt himself being out-surprised by a mere twenty-year-old boy who just couldn't stop smiling.  
  
Soujiro looked up, after tying the bandages firmly together. "Well?" He said. "Would you like to? I would sincerely appreciate your company. And, like they say, two swords are better than one!" He laughed with what seemed like incurable happiness.  
  
"Right," Okita said, feeling rather small at the moment. He then pulled on his own smile, defensively, almost. "I would love to have your company, Soujiro-san. Arigatou gozaimasu."  
  
Soujiro grinned. "That's great!" He laughed. Okita could have sworn that there was a trace of sincerity in the boy's voice. He felt his stomach twist gently at the sight of the boy, and a stinge of annoyance as he remembered the kiss that he had attempted to give him. He may be a cute boy, but there was something definitely wrong about him. He seemed so complaisant, yet so cold at the same time. He felt rather apprehensive about travelling with the boy. But there was just no way that he could pull away from the mystery that the boy held...  
  
"We'll leave tomorrow afternoon, then, Okita-sama?" Soujiro continued. "Or today afternoon, rather. It's morning already." And indeed, the sun was rising. He then got up, taking the leftover bandages and the candlestick with him. "Have a good sleep, Okita-sama," He grinned. "I'll go pack my things now, and get some provisions."  
  
"Don't bother with it, I'll do it." Okita stated forcefully.  
  
Soujiro simply shook his head. "You take your rest, Okita-sama. You've had a rather rough night, ne?" He smiled. "I'll do it." He turned from the older man. "I hope your arm feels better, Okita-sama."  
  
Okita grinned blankly, and watched the boy leave, his cropped hair shining in the light of the dawn. He stared as he opened the door and closed it gently, and it was then that he became all too aware of the emptiness of the room.


	4. Growing Tensions

A/N: Again, Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed. I thrive on your encouragement. Sorry that it took a while to get this chapter up, I've been busy working on my website and collecting all those screencaps of Soujiro & Okita and thumbnailing them. And working on that damn quiz. But here's the next chapter. It's not really action-packed, but I had to get it out of the way. As promised, it's a Soujiro POV...too bad I still have no idea where I'm going with this fanfic. I'm...gasp PLOTLESS! Ah, but hopefully that will change soon. Hopefully.... And I hope this isn't too long. Again, I tried to shorten it, but it just kept going.

The Flow of Blood  
  
chapter four: growing tensions  
  
Okita Souji, the man of legend.  
  
Soujiro glanced at the man from the corner of his eye, careful not to garner his attention. The sun was high up in the sky, it was about five o'clock. The older man's hair shone a luscious reddish-brown color, and for a moment, the young man wondered what it would feel like to feel those shiny strands of brown between his fingers.  
  
He quickly shook his head and brought his eyes to focus in front of him. _Iie,_ he thought to himself. _Don't think like that. That's wrong._  
  
"What's the matter, Soujiro-san?"  
  
Soujiro blinked and brought himself out of his mindset, turning to the older man with a bright grin on his face. "Nothing's the matter, Okita-sama, I was just thinking."  
  
"Honto ni?" Okita answered, his mouth curved upward into a grin. To Soujiro, the man looked no older than he himself was. _By this time, he must be at least thirty_, the boy thought to himself. But the way he grinned and the way he carried himself somehow seemed to take away those years and make him seem like nothing more than a young man.  
  
"Hai," Soujiro grinned. He felt himself tingle slightly at the older man's voice, and his captivating smile. His cheeks were the faintest shade of pink.  
  
And then he recalled that kiss from the previous night. He had never been kissed before that, and he certainly had no idea that men could kiss other men. He had seen Shishio-san and Yumi-san kiss on plenty of occasions, but never two men. What did it mean? What was it supposed to mean when two people kissed eachother? Was the meaning any different if two men kissed eachother? He was so puzzled about it that he had completely frozen up, and he had noticed that he had made Okita quite uncomfortable by doing so. So much, that he felt rather guilty about it afterwards, and offered to take the older man with him on his journey out of Yamagata, for a while. Which probably was not one of his brightest ideas.  
  
"So, Okita-sama," Soujiro tried to strike up a conversation. "I presume that those rumors you mentioned earlier refer to you?"  
  
"Hai, Soujiro-san." Okita said bringing his voice down a little bit. "That man who came into my dojo last night..." He trailed off a little bit. "He...he seemed to hate me with some sort of a fierce passion. I don't understand why."  
  
"Have you ever met him previously?" Soujiro asked, a smile still painted onto his face. "Have you ever done anything to offend him?"  
  
"I don't think so, Soujiro-san." The older man said slowly. His smile slowly began to fade away into a look of deep thought. "I didn't see his face. But he seemed to be targeting me because I was a member of the Shinsengumi."  
  
"Honto ni?" Soujiro cocked his head to the side, peering at Okita. "That was quite a long time ago, for him to still hold a grudge of some sort." He laughed.  
  
Okita turned to look at him, his eyes shimmering a warm chocolate color. Soujiro found himself grinning for lack of better response. "That's what I thought. I hope that this man is just targetting me, and none of the other Shinsengumi members still alive." He fell into a deep frown. "I certainly do hope that is not the case."  
  
Soujiro nodded. "What if there's more like him, Okita-sama? People holding a grudge against the Shinsengumi?" It sounded quite silly, as the Shinsengumi met their end a good many years ago, but the idea that people out there still hated them with a fervor was a possibility.  
  
Okita's frown deepened, and he did not answer.  
  
Soujiro quickly bowed, a smile still sticking to his face. "Gomen nasai! Gomen nasai! I didn't mean to burden you with my silly thoughts. Sumimasen!"  
  
Okita turned to the boy, a small smile on his own face. "It's quite alright, Soujiro-san, for all we know, you could be right." His smile faded by an increment. "But I certainly hope not."  
  
Soujiro fell silent. Well, his purpose certainly wasn't to get under the man's skin. He felt unnervingly small all of a sudden. Shifting uncomfortably, he turned to Okita, opening his mouth to make a comment on the weather. At the same time, he noticed that Okita had turned to him, his mouth open, about to say something as well. Soujiro quickly closed his own mouth, finding his face unusually hot. "Hai, Okita-sama, is there something you wanted to say?"  
  
"Oh, what were you going to say?" The older man said, a smile dancing on his face.  
  
"Onegai, Okita-sama, please grace me with what you had on your mind." Soujiro replied with his usual politeness.  
  
"Oh. I was just going to comment on the weather." He grinned. "It's lovely today, isn't it?"  
  
Soujiro simply stared at the man. The weather. That was exactly what he was going to talk about, and possibly the exact words he would have used. This shook the boy a bit. The similarities between himself and the man named Okita Souji were rather...frustrating, almost. "Hai, it is lovely," He stated. "Yamagata is very beautiful."  
  
Okita nodded, his hair catching sunlight on different angles. "Speaking of which, Soujiro-san..." Okita said, his voice trailing off again. He looked ahead of him, and then back to Soujiro. "Did you have any place in mind to go to, exactly?"  
  
"No, not really." Soujiro replied, with his everlasting grin. "Did you, Okita-sama?"  
  
"Well, actually, I wanted to go to Kyoto."  
  
Kyoto. Kyoto. Soujiro's mind froze up at the mention of that city. Kyoto. It held everything he had left behind, and everything he did not want to come back to. Not Kyoto.  
  
"Is something the matter, Soujiro-san?"  
  
Soujiro quickly snapped out of his state of mind, for the second time, and turned to the older man. "Is there a reason you want to go to Kyoto, Okita-sama?" He said, slowly.  
  
"I wanted to meet with Saitou Hajime-san. Do you know him? He was the captain of the Third Unit..." Okita said, his voice, solemn.  
  
"Hai, Okita-sama, I know him. I met him once, in Kyoto."  
  
"You used to live in Kyoto?"  
  
K'so. He had let it slip. "Well...for a time, hai." He replied evasively.  
  
"I see." Okita gave Soujiro a penetrating look, one that seemed to read all of his thoughts in an instant. It made the boy very uncomfortable.  
  
A silence passed between them for a long time.  
  
"You know, Soujiro-san," Okita said, quietly, his voice still calm, "I heard of some interesting events that took place in Kyoto two years ago."  
  
Soujiro grinned. "Honto ni?" He felt something cold inside of him.  
  
"Hai. There seemed to be a group named the...what was it now?...the Juppongatana, that was it. They were led by a previously Imperialist man named Shishio Makoto, plotting against the government. It was said that he wanted to burn down the city of Kyoto. Do you know anything about this?"  
  
Soujiro smiled, incredibly annoyed with this situation. Okita apparently was getting a hint on who exactly he was, which was something he did not like. He was trying to run away from that life. He was someone else now. He was just Seta Soujiro, not the Tenken.  
  
"What was really interesting," Okita continued at Soujiro's silence. "Was that there was a young boy of eighteen, about, who was said to be the strongest of these ten swords. His name was supposed to be..." Okita paused for a moment, pretending to think. "Tenken no Soujiro."  
  
Soujiro immediately dropped his smile.  
  
"It was said that he always smiled, even when he murdered. It was said that he has no emotions--"  
  
"That's not true." Soujiro said, quietly.  
  
Okita turned to the younger boy, with a mixture of surprise and a cold indifference on his face. "Honto ni?"  
  
"There's no need to pretend that you don't know who I am. Demo, Okita-sama, I am not the Tenken anymore. I am just Seta Soujiro, a humble wanderer. I have thrown away that life--"  
  
"So you are Seta Soujiro." Okita said. He was not smiling. "My first assumption was correct."  
  
"I told you, Okita-sama, I am not that person anymore." He felt his heart sting for a reason that he did not understand. "I do not have any negative intentions with you."  
  
"If so, why didn't you tell me who you were before?"  
  
"Why didn't you tell me who _you_ were, before?"  
  
A frigid silence passed between the two men. Soujiro felt incredibly uncomfortable, and he felt like smiling, but that would just rub in the fact that he was once the emotionless Tenken. He felt his heart hurting, but again, the reason was unknown to him.  
  
"Okita-sama. I ask of you to look kindly upon me. I have sincerely changed my ways; I am no longer Tenken no Soujiro." The urge to smile overwhelmed him, but he clamped it down, and pulled on the most sincere look he could muster.  
  
Okita simply grinned, but Soujiro could tell tell that it was not a true smile. "I believe you, Soujiro-san." Okita said, simply. But he didn't. It was too obvious to Soujiro that he didn't believe one word of it. He knew that from now on, the older man would keep an extremely close watch on him. He had lost his trust. And somehow, he felt that it put him down lower than if the older man would have just beaten him silly. 


	5. A Midnight Conversation

A/N: Arigatou gozaimasu for everyone's reviews! I feel so special. Sorry for the incredibly long wait. I had a real life to catch up on. gasp And I was also starting an Aoshi/Soujiro fanfic, too. And fixing up my website.  
  
Okay, it seems that I am strangely obsessed with writing Okita POVs. I don't know why. So, this chapter is, yet again, an Okita POV. It's just easier to write from his perspective! Considering he's the more 'emotion-ful' person of the two. Heh. But really, thanks so much for your support. I really wasn't expecting any readers for this fanfic at all, to be honest.  
  
This chapter is kind of long. But it just kept writing itself, so I couldn't help it!  
  
And millions of thanks to Oniwabanshu, who has been faithfully urging me along with my fanfics, and helping me get off my lazy behind and write something. You've been so supportive, thanks so much!  
  
**09.19-----**WOW. It's been SO long since I updated. I've been so busy with school life and all that, and I've had almost no time. However, it's done some good because now that I came back and reread this, I realized that it would not be very Okita-like to spill his heart out to Soujiro just yet. So...hence, the rewrite!  
  
The Flow of Blood  
  
chapter five: a midnight conversation  
  
Bright stars twinkled softly as Okita Souji peered at them, lying down on his back. They were sweetly calling to him, it seemed, beckoning him, almost. The silver rays of moonlight flooded the green grass and illuminated the blue bundle of fabric next to him; the dark brown hair of his traveling companion seeming to have a surrounding halo of white light.  
  
He was still there. Okita's instincts told him to immediately leave the boy after his identity was revealed, but something inside of him could not push that young man away. Soujiro was a senseless murderer, an emotionless prodigy of the sword, but Okita could not find it in himself to pull out his own weapon and challenge the other.  
  
He found himself give off a small sigh of disappointment. Before, during his Shinsengumi days, if he had hesitated to kill an offender, he wouldn't have thought twice about committing sepukku. And now...  
  
He lay, with eyes wide open, smothering himself in the wake of the events that had passed. He thought of the first time that he saw Soujiro, a week-and-a-half earlier, under the edge of his shed, curled up into a small ball of blue mass. The way that he smiled. The way his lips were upturned and happy, but his eyes--they were bleak.  
  
And so Okita found his mind wandering. He thought of the first time he had heard of the Juppongatana, from Saitou. And he thought about Saitou himself, and what they had, and what they didn't have anymore. And the Shinsengumi, and all things that had passed that pained his heart so. Okita clearly remembered watching, horrified, as Kondou Isami was decapitated, and felt blood drain from his face as his sensei's head was displayed, like an animal, to the public.  
  
There were some things that he could never put behind him. A man's past doesn't just make up a part of who he is, like Soujiro had said, it is who he is. A man is his past.  
  
And Okita Souji's past was riddled with pain, blood, a flash of steel, and the sound of a hacking cough. So, in his mind, that was all he was to himself.  
  
Okita gave of a small sigh, one that melted into the air as soon as it passed his lips. And he somehow felt that he was being watched. Quickly, he turned to the right and then to the left, and then his eyes fell upon lackluster pools of dark blue.  
  
"Soujiro."  
  
It was not a question, but a statement.  
  
A cheery voice answered him. "What are you doing up so late, Okita-sama?"  
  
"I could ask you the same," He said, rather coldly.  
  
"True, true." Soujiro's voice maintained a constant level of happiness. "I just found myself incapable of sleeping, at the moment." He gave off a stark laugh.  
  
"So did I." He was annoyed, and it showed. Couldn't a man drown in his misery in peace?  
  
"Looks like you were thinking about something," Soujiro said, the emotionless smile in his voice was evident.  
  
"What makes you think that?" Okita snapped.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I sometimes do that too. Thinking in the middle of the night."  
  
This boy will never know, Okita told himself firmly, He'll never know what I go through. He isn't haunted by his past. He isn't haunted by who he is. He's just a merciless killer with an idiotic smile.  
  
"It's not exactly relaxing," He heard Soujiro continue. "But sometimes, I just feel like thinking."  
  
"Thinking about what?" Okita said quietly, with a bit of spite. "Your many whores?" He mumbled it under his breath, so that Soujiro would not hear. Then, he quickly reprimanded himself for insulting the boy for no apparent reason. It was unlike him. But he found a small bubble of hostility rising from inside him, toward the boy. Why, he could not say.  
  
Soujiro just laughed at the insult. "I don't have a lover, Okita-sama."  
  
Blinking in surprise, Okita turned to the boy. He wasn't meant to hear those words. But...he was also uninvolved with women? "You don't?"  
  
"Iie."  
  
"Oh." Okita felt another small surge of guilt, which was quickly brushed aside. He had thought that the boy was wading in women, with a face as handsome as his. He himself had been pursued by girls, back when he was younger, but he found himself more attracted to men than the latter.  
  
"So what were you thinking about, Okita-sama?" Soujiro tried again.  
  
"It's none of your buisness."  
  
"I see." Soujiro paused for a moment. "I feel that my presence is upsetting you, Okita-sama. Would you like it if we went our separate ways?"  
  
Okita turned to the younger man. His face was lit up by the cool moonlight, bearing the traces of a smile. Yes, it was reasonable to let the boy leave. He didn't trust him. He found himself quite unnerved by the boy as well. It was the better thing to do.  
  
"Iie, Soujiro-san. That would not be in my best interests."  
  
And there he went again. Some other thing, tugging at the bottom of his heart, kept him from sending the boy away. It really began to frustrate him.  
  
"Honto ni?" Soujiro blinked. "I feel that you do not like me very much." He quickly bowed. "Not that I mistrust your decision to dislike me. I am sure that it's the right thing for you to feel toward me."  
  
This boy just kept confusing him over and over and over again. He was so polite. So respectful. And...an emotionless killer? Somehow, it just didn't fit together. Okita found himself silent for a very long time.  
  
"Am I upsetting you, Okita-sama?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Okita-sama?"  
  
Okita turned to the young man, his eyes warm--or rather, warmer than they were previously. Soujiro looked at him, the smile just barely playing on his face. His eyes were wide and curious. His soft skin seemed to radiate with light, his face as bright and beautiful as the moon. Yes, he used to be an emotionless killer, that was a fact. But...was he, now? Okita had firmly believed that a man cannot change who he was and, therefore, could not change himself. He is who he was. But...  
  
"I don't understand you, Soujiro-san. You make no sense to me."  
  
Soujiro smiled. It was different than how he normally smiled, it seemed. His face lit up, his eyes shimmering in the dim light surrounding them. "I know exactly how that feels, Okita-sama. I know exactly how that feels."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
The young man did not answer, but Okita could almost hear the smile that was stretched across his face. Silence passed between the two, and Okita especially felt Soujiro's discomfort.  
  
"Okita-sama, would you be offended if I dared to question why I confuse you?" Soujiro asked, rather timidly.  
  
"It's a long story." Okita said quickly, not wanting to delve into the subject further.  
  
"I'm listening. We have all night." Soujiro grinned sweetly, folding his hands inside his lap. He cocked his head just a little, in a way that the starlight caught his eyes at such an angle that they seemed to be sparkling within them.  
  
Did he want to tell this boy about what he had gone through? Did he dare to even think about telling him? He glanced over at the boy, whose ivory skin lit up in the moonlight. He was alluring, he could certainly give him that. Alluring, and rather...adorable. In the way that he spoke and the way that he looked, even. But...no. As sweet as the boy seemed, there was no way that Okita could bring himself to trust him, so suddenly. He shook his head, at the young man before him.

"It's not polite to pry, Soujiro-san."

The boy seemed taken aback for a bit, then he gathered his senses and quickly bowed a couple of times. "Gomen nasai, Okita-sama, I didn't mean to be nosy. Gomen nasai. Gomen..."

The older man sighed, feeling another tinge of annoyance course through his mind. "It's alright. Now go to sleep. Kyoto's a few days of travel ahead of us."

"Hai, Okita-sama." The boy said, almost matter-of-factly, and promptly turned back around and proceeded to sleep. Okita found himself intrigued even more by this young man as he did so, and even more annoyed. Falling to the ground, he began to regret ever taking the boy into his home.


	6. the Memories of Kyoto

A/N: Yes. I've FINALLY gotten around to writing this chapter. Finally! Sorry to all my readers, I certainly wasn't going to stop writing this fanfic, no matter for how long I don't update. It's just because I'm kind of busy with school and all. And I've gotten into a major obsession with other series too, so... Yet again, thanks a lot to all you people who reviewed. And may I reiterate: please don't leave comments about how character x is not gay, or whatever. That's not helpful to me as an author! But don't stop reviewing! A thousand thanks to everyone who did! hands everyone Okita plushies 

Anyhow! A Soujiro POV. After that hiatus, I came across the conclusion that my fanfics have pretty short chapters. I'll try to lengthen them. Hehe. And in case you didn't catch it, I made a little fix-up on the last chapter.

Oh, and a little note: The only two (popular well known) Shinsengumi members that survived after the aftermath of the Bakumatsu are Saitou Hajime (Fujita Gorou) and Nagakura Shinpachi.

chapter.six

the burning memories of Kyoto

He could remember. Yes, he could certainly remember. The very scent, he could remember. The sight and the sound and the smell of the city of Kyoto. The women that gossipped in the corners and the small children running through the streets; the marketplace and the merchants, and the restaurants and inns and everything that he was just so familiar with. Everything that he had left behind, everything that he wanted to forget about. But still, the cold-hard fact was that he was, indeed, remembering it all over again.

Okita walked beside him, quietly, looking ahead. Somehow, his eyes seemed to glaze over, to be clouded with something untouchable. They were both silent for a very long time.

At last, the stark quietness was too much for Soujiro. "Okita-sama, may I kindly ask where you intend on staying during our excursion here?"

Okita's eyes cleared, as he turned to the younger man beside him, a rather thoughtful look on his face. "I'm not sure, Soujiro-san." He said, slowly. "You are acquainted with Saitou Hajime-san, are you not? I was hoping that he'd have some extra room for two."

Soujiro diverted his gaze. "Okita-sama...I'm not sure if Saitou-san would want me living in his home. We have run across eachother one year ago..." He began to shift uncomfortably, the city of Kyoto melting around him. "Perhaps it's best if you go stay with him yourself? I can work, and rent at an inn-"

"Don't be silly, Soujiro-san." Okita said, his voice brisk. "Saitou-san will be more than happy to let you stay with him."

"A-Anou..." Soujiro started, his eyes shifting. The assertiveness in the older man's voice was rather unnerving. It was even more unnerving to the boy when he remembered that Saitou Hajime was a part of the police force of Kyoto. And the chances that he, the former Tenken, was a wanted man were very, very high. A cold sensation welled up in his chest, but he kept it down, supressing it internally with a sanguine smile.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Saitou-san! Saitou-san?" Okita tapped on the door of the home of Saitou Hajime. Soujiro felt his heart sink with each knock, and even more at the older man's conviction that the ex-Captain of the Third Troops would actually let him stay at his own home. Dread filled the boy's heart as he heard footsteps approaching toward the door. The door began to slide open...

Narrowed, vicious yellow eyes looked out from behind the shoji as it was pushed aside by a gloved hand. The face of Saitou Hajime's face was seen, behind a creasing shadow that crept up upon his face. A long pause followed.

"Okita." The deeper voice stated, glancing over at the brown-haired man. A cold silence shivered through the air."What are you doing here?"

Soujiro blinked, expecting to be the center of attention to the policeman's eye, and glanced over at the older man next to him. Okita looked straight back into Saitou's eyes, with what seemed like steeled reservation. The frigidity of the air was overwhelming, as the two men stared at eachother with such an intense cold, that Soujiro could almost feel it.

"Saitou-san..." Okita started, his mouth hanging open for a bit as he slowly diverted his gaze from the policeman. "I've been having some trouble at my dojo in Yamagata. I travelled here, hoping that you could spare room for two."

"So, you've decided to come back..." The man said, thoughtfully. Soujiro followed Saitou's eyes as they slowly turned to glance at him. "And you bring the Tenken along, too," He mused. His lips curled just a bit at the ends in a smirk. Soujiro could not bring himself to react; so he quickly pulled on his most cheerful grin.

"Saitou-san, this boy is allegedly a rurouni now. And he is my travelling partner. I have no intention of turning him in-" Okita started, but Saitou cut him off.

Saitou smirked. "On the contrary. With the current situations as they are, I think I'd rather make use of the boy first, before taking him to justice." Soujiro felt his legs start to shake a bit as Saitou looked him up and down. Make use of him? What exactly did he mean? He felt his heart pound, just slightly. With much effort, the boy managed to squeeze out a few words: "I beg your pardon, Saitou-san?"

Saitou glanced at both Okita, before fully sliding open the shoji and stepping aside, motioning for the two to come in. The chocolate-eyed man glanced at the policeman, before slowly making his way inside. Soujiro hesitantly followed, tense.

Once all three of them were seated, Saitou continued. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Okita," He paused, looking deeply into the brown-haired man's eyes, who returned the gaze cautiously. "But there are reports of a group of people who still hold a grudge against the Shinsengumi. They seem to attack at night, and just a few days ago, I was ambushed by a scrawny man who apparently wanted to kill me..."

"Hai, Saitou-san," Okita replied, piqued in interest. "I myself was attacked about two weeks ago." He leaned back a bit, and Soujiro could have sworn that the older man almost seemed smug at the next comment that he made: "That is why I came here, after all."

Saitou smirked at this comment, and the soft rumble of a chuckle could be heard. "You haven't changed a bit, Souji." He chuckled a bit more openly. "Not in the slightest."

Purely confused, and a little left out, Soujiro turned his glance back at Okita. The other man allowed himself to smile, raising his eyebrow a bit at the officer. "I've come to stay in Kyoto for a while, until this whole ordeal with those men blows over. They seem to be getting stronger each time..." Okita looked away for a split second, before bringing his chocolate eyes to Saitou's. "So, what do you say, Saitou-san?" He smirked a bit at the older man, almost as if teasing him.

"On one condition, Okita-kun," Saitou said, returning the mischevious smile. "I hope you don't believe that I'm just going to sit here and wait til this /blows over/." He stared intensely at Okita. "I, as the police, have an obligation to rid the city of any nuisance that may be of harm to the good citizens-"

"And I do hope you don't think that I'll actually volunteer to help you get rid of these men, Saitou-san." Okita said, hardening his voice just slightly. "That would be ridiculous of you."

Saitou's smirk widened. "Indeed, it would be. So, in contrast, I'm asking that that boy of yours, along with yourself, partake in ridding Japan of these men. Now, that's far more reasonable, don't you agree, Okita-kun?"

Soujiro felt a jolt course through his spine at being referred to as "that boy of his", but nonetheless, the message struck. Saitou wanted to make use of him before taking him to prison, and his death, possibly.

"Honestly, Saitou-san," Okita said, the frigidity returning to the air around him. "Who do you think you are? Do you just expect us to do your will without a word?" The indignancy was obvious. "I came here hoping that an old friend of mine would be generous enough to spare a room for myself and my temporary traveling companion, not hoping to get wrapped up with all these causes again!"

Keeping a cool exterior, Saitou calmly replied: "Whether you're aware of it or not, Okita-kun, you're already wrapped up in this. It's your choice whether to get yourself out or not."

Purely frigid, Okita glared down the man known as Saitou Hajime. Both he and Soujiro knew well that the officer had made a very good point. And Soujiro could tell that the last thing that the chocolate-eyed man wanted to do was get involved with one of these plots. But Soujiro knew that Okita understood that there was really no other way out of this predicament.

And instead of giving Saitou a direct answer, he gave the man a rather pouty look, one that appeared to be rather childish; dare he say it: cute?

Saitou gave off a bit of a laugh and stood up, ruffling Okita's hair a bit as he did. "I knew you'd come around, Okita-kun. Care for some tea?"

"Saitou-san, don't /do/ that!" The younger man barked, his hands flying to the top of his head, smoothing down his reddish-brown hair. Soujiro got the feeling that this sort of interactment happened a lot during the men's Shinsengumi days, as a sort of acknowledgement of friendship maybe. He wasn't entirely sure. "Demo, Saitou-san! Matte!" Okita got up as well, facing the back of the policeman.

"What is it?" Saitou turned around and glanced at Okita.

"There's no need to bring the boy into this."

Again, Soujiro felt an almost unnoticeable prick of annoyance. He was /not/ a boy.

It seemed that Saitou had read his mind. Laughing a bit, he replied: "Okita-kun, I don't believe you've seen this boy fight. They did not call him Tenken no Soujiro for no reason. He gave the Battousai quite a run for his money, I do believe." His yellow gaze turned to the blue-eyed boy. "Yes, quite talented. Brought up by the devil himself-"

Soujiro cleared his throat rather loudly before the man finished his sentence. Purposefully. There was absolutely no need to discuss Shishio-san over this: his internal wounds over the man's death were still raw. "Saitou-san, Okita-sama," He started, pausing for a moment, contemplating what words to use in this situation. "I would be more than happy to help the both of you on this...excursion." No, that was probably not the right word. Oh well, too late now. "I am a rurouni now, after all, and I have taken up to helping others when necessary." He smiled, sincerely hoping that the last sentence he had voiced would put him on better terms with Saitou.

Chuckling a bit, Saitou eyed him for a while. The younger boy felt a prick in his mind that he had caught on to his intentions. But instead, the man said: "See, Okita-kun," Saitou stated. "He agrees, anyway." And before the chocolate-eyed man had a chance to respond, he turned and made his way to go fix some tea, presumably.

Soujiro looked tentatively at the taller man as he walked away, only to find that Okita had promptly swirled around, hands on his hips, and was currently glaring at him.

"Areh...Okita-sama?" Soujiro tried, apprehensively.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man hissed, his voice low enough so that Saitou could not hear. "What the /hell/ do you think you're doing, getting involved in things like these!"

"I...I was...I was just trying to help out-"

"Help out /what? Who knows what these crazy men are up to? These stupid causes-or as you so sharply put it/excursions-won't get you anywhere! They're nothing but a shitload of trouble! If you really want to help people out, donate money or something! They'll appreciate that, if not anything else!"

Soujiro paused tentatively, glancing away from the man's eyes. There was something gone. There was something gone from that man, and even an emotionless boy like him could tell. The Okita he had heard about when he was younger was inspirational, and generous, and talented, and kind. And always willing to fight for what he believed in. But this man that he had become...

"Gomen nasai, Okita-sama," Soujiro started. "I understand that you might not like me to get involved, but I feel that I have an obligation to. I...I'm trying to repent for my sins and...well...I hope I can do so by fighting for the right side this time." He smiled a bit hopefully.

Okita simply shook his head, disapprovingly. He glanced up at him, a rather dead look in his eyes, before turning away again. The younger man felt a bit of apprehension. "I presume you'll have to share a room with me." A quick change of subject. How convenient. Okita began to walk to what was their quarters. "I'll see you later then, Soujiro-san."

"H-Hai..." Soujiro frowned a bit as he watched the brown-haired man leave. What had happened to him? Why was he so against these just causes? Or, at least, he thought they were just: justice was a concept that was still a bit confusing to him. What was wrong with trying to defend the men of the Shinsengumi? To Okita, they were the men whom he had spent his life with: the men whom he trained with and joked with and lived with. Why did he just not care?

Perhaps he was thinking too much. A hint of a smile still wavering on his face, Soujiro decided that it was best to not question the older man on this, for fear of offending him. Walking toward the door, he slid it open, before glancing back inside. And then there was the question of Saitou-san. Soujiro was not sure if it was prudent to trust this man; he was a policeman. And there was also his relationship with Okita. It was odd and intriguing; they seemed to have been good friends at least, until something came between them.

Not that he would know anything about friendship, of course.

Giving off a slip of a sigh, the blue-eyed boy stepped outside for a mid-afternoon walk. He had a lot to think about.


End file.
